Page 22 of The Wrong Wife


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She shivers, then a small cry escapes her lips, for I’ve grabbed one wrist, then the other, and shackled them behind her with my fingers. I kick her legs apart—good thing she’s wearing a dress with a wide skirt that allows for movement— then I fasten the fingers of my free hand around her neck and push her cheek into the glass.

A trembling grips her. "Wh-what are you doing?"

"Do you want me to stop?"

She hesitates.

"Say the word, and I’ll release you."

"Can I keep my job?" she says in a breathless tone.

"Are you accepting the job?"

"Isn’t that why I’m here?"

"Is that not why you’re here?"

She huffs. "Why do you have to answer every question with a question?"

"You know the answer to that."

She groans. "Okay, fine. I admit it. I came here to accept your job offer, though it was presumptuous of you to expect that when you saw me and"—her chest rises and falls—"and I don’t want you to stop," she mumbles under her breath.

"What was that?"

She narrows her gaze and looks at me from the corner of her eyes. "You heard what I said."

"I need you to state it clearly."

"You’re a bastard."

"Not legally, but in every other way, yes."

"I hate you."

I yawn. "Still not hearing the words, Little Dove."

"Don’t call me that," she protests.

"I’ll call you want I want, when I want. Better get used to that."

"You’re not selling this—whatever it is—so you know."

"What I do know is that your breasts are aching, your nipples are hard enough to cut through the glass against which you’re plastered, and if I cup your pussy, your panties will be wet from the evidence of your arousal. So, can I hear from your lips that you want me to continue manipulating your body? Otherwise, I’m going to release you on the count of three, two, on—"

"Fine, I don’t want you to stop," she bursts out.

"And what is it you want me to do you?"

She squeezes her eyes shut. "Why are you making this so difficult?"

I lean in until my breath raises the hair on her head. "The more difficult things are to attain, the sweeter the reward."

The pulse at the base of her throat beats faster. "Is that a military saying?"

"Doesn’t matter. The only thing of relevance is that you put yourself in my hands and now, you will be rewarded." I push my knee forward so the ridge of my thigh chafes against the crotch of her sodden panties.

She gasps, "Oh, god."

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